


Don We Now

by 89JadedPictures



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Christmas, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Hermione Wears the Pants, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Lipstick Lesbian Pansy, Pansmione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-15 14:29:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13033122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/89JadedPictures/pseuds/89JadedPictures
Summary: Hermione and Pansy have been together ten months, and are still working out the kinks. Like, whether or not Hermione should spend the energy fighting Pansy's stiletto heels digging into the floorboards while she tries to pull her unwilling woman through the Floo to the Weasleys' for Christmas gift exchange, if Pansy should have one drink or ten, or if they should have even left their house for holiday celebrations at all.





	Don We Now

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [DFFandCabalChristmasFest](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/DFFandCabalChristmasFest) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Pansy and Hermione celebrate their first Christmas together. "It's not easy with your father in Azkaban and your mother in St Mungos"

Hermione rolled away from the warmth of Pansy’s back with a groan, flinging an arm and a leg out from under the covers and over the edge of the bed, blissfully welcoming the cold air of the room.

The “one drink” Pansy had insisted upon the night before had turned into two. Two into three… Three into four, and after the fifth, Hermione didn’t remember much. And that, as she would later remind her girlfriend, was exactly why she didn’t imbibe alcohol, or any other substances.

‘Oh, well,’ Hermione thought as she let her eyes flutter open for a moment, only to find that the headache she harbored pounded against multiple points of her skull. ‘To each their own… Alcohol is not “my own”, indeed.’

The Gryffindor sat up, a hand cradling her head, and wordlessly Accio’d one of her girlfriends’ many Sober-up potions, and tossed the foul liquid back far easier than she’d ever done with alcohol. She remembered another Christmas-y drink she and Pansy had had plenty of the previous night, and shuddered.

Looking over at the woman with whom she shared a bed, a house in east London, and a life with, she gave a sad half-smile as she reached over to brush a black lock of hair from Pansy’s shoulder, and sighed before leaning over to leave a soft kiss on the skin there.

Hermione’s witch had been in a mood the past week, since the reality of the holidays really set down upon them, and Hermione knew Pansy had been looking for someone stupid to fight; to let out some frustration on. For all of her faults, Pansy had never taken any of these emotions out on Hermione, but nearly everyone else had gotten the brunt of her displeasure.

A memory came to her from the night before, as she tried to piece together her Christmas Eve.

\-- “Are you bloody kidding me?!” the already tipsy Pansy yelled at a Muggle who had just pushed his shoulder roughly into Hermione’s as they’d passed; hard enough that the two women holding hands had both had to stop, right in the middle of the crosswalk, as the curly-haired witch was jarred at the force. “We’re walking here!”

Hermione drew a deep breath and sighed as she looked about, immediately thinking that she should pull Pansy away. Hermione had figured that the contact was to be expected. The street was busy, packed to the brim of the cobbles with Muggle Christmas shoppers, and at least a dozen pairs of eyes turned to look at them at Pansy’s exclamation.

There were two other men the intrusive Muggle was with, both slowing their own canter across the walk to look at Pansy as the man in question turned around, walking backwards as he called with a large smile and a two finger salute, “Get fucked.”

Hermione’s eyes grew large, and the corners of her lips turned down drastically as she watched Pansy’s Barbie-pink lips part into a bitter scowl that showed teeth as she growled, “What did you just say?”

The man turned and kept walking, he and his two mates grinning and laughing as they made it to the other side of the street. But Pansy stayed planted in her neon pink pumps, right in the middle of the crosswalk. Hermione started pulling at Pansy, because she knew what was coming.

As if on cue, right as Hermione began to tug on their interlaced fingers, Pansy raised her other arm, burning fag between thumb and forefinger, cherry sticking out at him, to nearly shriek, “Come back here and say that to my face! I’ll kill you! I’ll turn you inside out! I’ll shove my shoe so far up your arse you’ll click when you talk!”

“Pansy!” Hermione almost yelled as the cars about them began to honk in hopes of supplanting the woman in the all pink get-up, complete with a fur coat, so that they could get on with their lives.

“What?” Pansy asked her girlfriend, rounding with a frown. “It’s fucking Christmas! Who does that on Christmas?”

“A total toss,” Hermione said as she urged Pansy to finish crossing the street, while also waving apologetically at the drivers who shook fists at them.

“Exactly!” Pansy said. “And no one treats you like that, ok? No one. If I ever see him again, any of those fugly blokes, I’m going to Azkaban.” --

With another sigh, the witch remembered how Pansy had been less than cordial with Harry only four days ago when he called to properly invite them to the Weasleys’ for Christmas drinks and a present exchange, Hermione kissed her woman once more, thinking, ‘It’s not easy with your father in Azkaban and your mother in St. Mungo’s.’

This, St. Mungo’s, being her latest thought, Hermione moved her hand from the pale shoulder of her lover, down to rest on her hip, where she began to draw small, light circles on the protruding bone she found there.

Feeling the tickling touch of her woman, Pansy stirred with a smile. Hermione grinned down at her, because as much as she liked Pansy’s painted lips, she loved them so much more when they were their natural pale pink, and they smiled at her innocently with sleepy eyes.

“We have to get ready to pop off soon,” Hermione reminded her bed-mate in a low voice.

It was a quiet Christmas morning. The world outside had been covered in a fresh blanket of snow, and not many had ventured out. Seeing as it was only 7:30, only those who owned coffee shops, and the few businesses run by atheist Muggles, or those of a certain faith, opened despite the holiday.

Their apartment building was quiet, and in the cold of the morning Pansy reached up to cup Hermione’s face as she asked, “To Janice’s?”

Hermione nodded.

Pansy sighed deeply before rolling over enough to put a kiss to Hermione’s lips. After a few seconds, she moved her lips to the corner of Hermione’s mouth, then her chin, and then left a trail of close kisses down past her collarbone before the Hermione said warningly, “Pansy…”

The surprisingly well woman, considering how many drinks she’d had the night before, ignored her, though, pressing kisses over the swell of the Gryffindor’s pert, but smaller than her own, breasts, saying, “Happy Christmas, love.”

“Happy Christmas,” Hermione moaned in return, for Pansy had attached her lips to one of Hermione’s nipples, making the witch’s words come out on a shaky, airy breath. Another gasp escaped her when Pansy’s wand hand reached around to roughly grab a pert arse cheek.

The curly-haired woman allowed her lover to continue for only a few moments before turning the tables; taking Pansy’s wrists in her hands and rolling her woman onto her back. With Hermione now in control, she could move forward with the first gift of the day. She’d gotten her girlfriend two new sets of lingerie, one Slytherin green, the other silver, as well as three new- sensible- pairs of shoes, as well as the same spa package they’d gifted Molly Weasley. 

Deftly Hermione moved her wand hand down to push Pansy’s knickers to the side, her fingers sliding along the smooth, slick skin of her slit. The witch on her back shuddered, moaned, and then took a sharp inhale when a thumb slid over her clit, just as another thumb ran down to her opening, spreading her open before Hermione inserted her second thumb into Pansy’s trembling quim; working both appendages in sync in slow, dragging circles.

“Great Salazar!” Pansy moaned as she realized that she was already melting down Hermione’s hands at the simple contact. But what could she say? Her witch learned fast, fast, fast. 

Then, just as the tremble in Pansy’s body peaked, the brunette leaned down to take a bare pink nipple between her teeth. Pansy’s back arched further. Hermione smiled at the feeling of having to hold Pansy down as pleasure overtook her. It was something she never grew tired of, and she wanted more, so she began to quicken her pace. 

Pansy bit her lip as she finally relaxed back into the bed, only for her to bite harder as Hermione moved one arm around Pansy’s waist to hold her down, roughly gripping her arse as she moved the fingers of her wand hand to slip two into Pansy’s folds, keeping her thumb at its place on her clit, working to bring Pansy over.

Hermione varied her moments, though only slightly, only until she found the spot that made her lover’s breath hitch, hold, and when she let it out it came as a desperate, mewling, moaning plea for more. It was always more with Pansy. 

It was always more with Hermione. 

‘All’ was never enough for either witch.

“You’re going to come soon,” Hermione said, nipple still in her mouth. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

All Pansy could do was moan louder in appreciation and annoyance, because Hermione knew what her fingers were doing. Pansy could feel them hitting the perfect spot within her, her lover’s wrist low, palm facing the ceiling, making deep, quick thrusts upward that sent deep pangs of pleasure through her abdomen, her hips, and down her thighs. It was glorious, and coupled with the hot tongue and supple lips on her nipple, she knew that at any moment she would break. Just a few more deep, rubbing, taunting, teasing, torturous strokes with her magical fingers, and she’d be there. 

“Oh- oh! ‘Mione!” Pansy tried to vocalize how close she was, how she was coming undone. “I’m- so fuck- Ah! OW! OW! AAAAARRGGHHH!” Pansy’s screams and flailing changed from pleasured to peeved in a second, causing Hermione to pull away from her work with a start. “CROOKSHANKS!”

Hermione watched as Pansy scooted up the bed until her back was against the headboard, then looked behind her shoulder to find her familiar staring up with a mischievous glint in his eyes; his pink tongue licking happily along his lips.

“He- fucking bit me!” Pansy yelled, one had on her ankle, the other pointing an accusing finger at the ginger cat. 

“Crew!” Hermione scolded as she turned back to the half-Kneazle, who turned and ran from the room as fast as lightning. 

“That thing hates me.” Pansy pouted with a sneer. 

“He hates everyone,” Hermione tried to comfort her girlfriend, moving up the bed to rest between her legs once more, not forgetting to wave her hand and close and lock the door to keep her cat out for a while. “Forget him, love. I was just about to give you your first Christmas gift.” Pansy was still pouting, though she looked less wounded in more ways one, having Summoned her wand to heal her ankle. “And when I’m done”- Hermione paused to take Pansy’s wand and toss it once her spell was cast- “I’ll make you breakfast and we can open our other gifts.”

Pansy looked thoughtful for just a moment before saying, “I’ve never eaten cat. Or Kneazle. That sounds like a good gift. I think I’d like to try- Oh!”

Hermione’s lips once again finding her nether-lips cut Pansy off.

(*)

“Happy Christmas, mother,” Pansy greeted with a sad smile as she stood over the elder witch who laid back in her hospital bed. 

Rosalie Parkinson’s eyes were glazed over, peering at a spot on the wall near the window. She didn’t move a millimeter as Pansy walked about, placed the dozen white roses on the bedside table, along with a photo book.

Hermione watched as Pansy quickly glanced at the door where the curly-haired which stood, as if making sure that she was the only other person in the room, before giving her mother a kiss on her forehead. Hermione knew that Pansy did not often show her parents such affection. She was raised to believe it improper, and still had the subconscious tick of making sure that no one outside of the inner-circle witnessed her love for them.

Pansy walked back to where Hermione stood, both witches’ expressions etched with melancholy. “So…” Pansy began as she drew near her partner, but had to look over her shoulder at Rosalie once more before asking, “I will see you back at the house at half three?”

“My parents want you to come over, you know.” Hermione said instead of directly answering.

“I know,” Pansy said. “But, like I said, I think it’s best I stay with Draco after our visits.”

“I understand. And, like I said, if plans change you are more than welcome.”

“You will be the first to know, love.”

“I better be,” Hermione answered with fake haughtiness, which caused Pansy to smile and kiss her. 

The two parted at the Apparition point, Hermione on her way to visit her family, while Pansy planned to meet Draco at Azkaban to visit their fathers.

(*)

“I can’t do this, ‘Mi,” the Slytherin admitted breathlessly as Hermione pulled her to the Floo. “This is going to be a disaster!”

The raven-haired witch pulled against her woman, stilettos gripping the floor rather well, if one asked Hermione. The Gryffindor was reminded of the one time she’d gone mountain climbing/hiking in the Alps with her father four winters ago. Her spiked snow-shoes had been pricelessly helpful, not to mention necessary, and Hermione suddenly realized the true reason her woman was hell-bent on wearing such ridiculous foot-wear.

It was difficult to make Pansy participate in an event she cared for nil, and her shoes helped tons when it came to her being physically convinced to do something against her will; like show up at Molly and Arthur Weasley’s burrow home for an hour or two of socialization, which saw the spiked ends of Pansy’s black and purple Louis Witchon heels digging into the beautiful wood of the floorboards. 

Hermione hadn’t been to the Burrow in nearly eight months before Hallowe’en, the red-headed Heads of the Weasley family still sore at the bright brunette for leaving Ron behind for a Slytherin witch. Well, it was mostly Molly, of course, for Arthur’s feathers were only ruffled by true injustice, and, apparently, he found the occurrence a just punishment for his youngest son’s prior decisions. After the shite had hit the fan, after Hermione had broken it to Ron that she’d cheated on him with Pansy, Molly had forbidden her from visiting the residence with Pansy, and that had only led Hermione to avoid the home- one she had once considered a second one of her own- for the better part of a year. 

Now, Hermione was doing her best on forcing her reluctant love to join her in visiting with old friends, one with whom Pansy had never had the “misfortune” to call upon. 

“Look,” Hermione said as she slid her arms around the taller woman, pressing their bodies together and looking up at her as calmly as she could manage. “All we have to do is show up. You’ll have one drink-”

“You’re drinking with me, damn it!” Pansy cut in.

“- and we’ll give them all the gifts that I have already sent over. We’re obligated. We have to go now.”

“‘Miiiiiooooo-kneeeeee,” the Slytherin whined, trying to look pathetic. Which was rather difficult with her dramatically painted red lips and green smoky eyes, and her long black hair pulled back into a high, tight, pony-tail. “If anything, that means we really don’t need to go. The gifts are already there! We don’t have to watch them open them.”

“Fine,” Hermione said, letting her go, sounding more annoyed than she’d planned. “You don’t have to go. But I am. I’ll- be back soon.”

With this the Gryffindor turned for the Floo, but was stopped from grabbing the powder by Pansy’s perfectly manicured hand twining her fingers into Hermione’s and pulling them both back down to their sides, assisting Hermione in turning to face her once more.

“Alright. I’m going. I just-” Pansy stopped here, and both knew that she didn’t need to elaborate.

“It is going to be just fine,” Hermione said, promise in her tone. “And if there are any problems, I’ll handle them.”

“You mean Ronald,” the Slytherin said with a deep frown.

Hermione wanted to smile, to grin even, at the jealousy her woman exuded, despite obviously trying not to let her mask slip. But the curly-haired woman decided it was best if she didn’t acknowledge it, lest her attention give the fire in Pansy’s eyes breath. The last thing anyone needed was Pansy’s feelings validated, because she’d be more apt to act upon them.

“Whoever decides to show you, or either of us, any disrespect,” Hermione answered.

Pansy nodded, and pursed her lips for only a second before nodding and saying, “Ok… Let’s go.”

Hermione went through the Floor first, and when she landed in the living room of the Burrow it was to see that the room was full of red-heads, a Veela and her toddling daughter, the raven-haired Harry Potter, and the tall, dark and beautiful Angelina Weasley. 

“Happy Christmas, everyone,” Hermione greeted lightly, but before anyone could respond, before Harry could properly stand from his seat, Pansy stepped from the Floo, indifference on her face. 

The over-dressed witch lifted her wand to banish the ashes from her and her girlfriend. When she was done, the Slytherin looked around the lion’s den in which she stood: Mr. and Mrs. Weasley sat in gold on either side of the Christmas tree. Bill and Fleur sat to Arthur’s right- the newly arrived women’s immediate left- in dining room chairs, where George and Angelina did the same to Molly’s left. On the couch to Angelina’s left sat a glaring Ron, then an amused looking Ginny, and then Harry, who now stood. In the love seat on to the right of the fireplace sat Percy and his equally red-headed girlfriend Audrey. 

If one were to look up the stairs, they’d find Charlie at an open landing window, smoking a doobie and drinking spiked cocoa while ignoring the storm that brewed at the impending arrival of Hermione and her “Slytherin *gag* girlfriend *gag*.” What? It was Ron’s sentiment, not Charlie’s, who couldn’t give a shite less about the whole thing, to be honest. Ain’t nobody got time for Ron’s negativity, and for that, Charlie could not blame Hermione for growing tired and moving on.

Pansy drew a steadying breath and set her jaw before saying, “Good evening. Happy Christmas.”

There were many seconds counted on the clock before Harry moved from his standing place near the couch, allowing his gracious smile to light his face as he reached them, pulling Hermione into a hug, saying, “Happy Christmas,’ ‘Mione.” Then he pulled away to give the stock-still Pansy a quick hug of her own, and a, “Happy Christmas.”

Hermione began to move around the room at this point, giving Fleur a welcomed hug. Pansy remained still, standing beside Harry in silence as she watched Hermione make her rounds. Hermione was given a warm hug from Bill, and the one from Arthur was just as genuine. The one from Molly was far stiffer than the ones given her by the matriarch in her adolescence, but Hermione made a point of thinking nothing of it as she moved in for a group hug from George and Angie. Ginny saved her by jumping in before Ron, whom Hermione had no intentions of ever touching again.

The curly-haired woman’s relief at Ginny’s interference had her wondering if perhaps Pansy had been right in suggesting that sending the gifts had been gesture enough.  
“Happy Christmas, ‘Mione. It’s good to see you,” Ginny greeted during a hug.

“It’s good to see you, too,” Hermione replied as they pulled away, noting that it had been well over a month since she’d seen the youngest Weasley.

“Can I get you both” – Ginny paused to glance at Pansy with a nod- “a drink? We have pumpkin eggnog with pumpkin spiced rum from Fleur’s mum. And Charlie brought some wicked fuckin’ strong Firewhisky that he’s been putting in mum’s homemade coco. He’s here, but he’s probably tits up on his bed. I suggest having only one of those.”  
“I’ll take two of those now,” Pansy answered, then pointed to Hermione, saying, “And she’ll have one of those eggnogs.” 

“Do you often make choices for her?” Ginny asked, her intent clear in her words and posture. She was challenging Pansy, whom she hadn’t seen in months, but Pansy was not swayed so easily. She knew where she was, a lion’s den, and she knew the confrontations were coming. 

Pansy lightened her expression as she replied, “Only when I know which option she’d prefer.”

Ginny lifted an auburn brow at Pansy, and Hermione had the mind to step in, stating honestly, “I really would like the pumpkin eggnog. It sounds delicious.”

Giving her oldest girlfriend a strange look, before ignoring her own emotions, Ginny motioned to the kitchen with a thumb. “Follow me, then. I’ll set you straight.” 

George choked on his cocoa at his sister’s comical, albeit unintentional, choice of words. “Sorry,” said the brilliant prankster as he continued to choke. “Got- fuckin’- nargles in my brain.”

The three women headed to the kitchen, ignoring George’s excuses, and once being, basically, ignored, Ron stood up with a ‘humph’ as he ascended the stairs to join Charlie in avoiding the “gayety”. Harry exchanged silent glances with every other person in the room, all of which were strained in some way- except George and Angelina, of course- before making off up the stairs after his best friend. 

After mixing drinks, Ginny led the couple back into the living room, where the couch was now empty for the three to sit. No one commented on why that was, and to avoid further awkwardness, Hermione asked, “Have you all opened the gifts we sent over?”

“No, dear,” Molly said with as much pleasantry as she could manage as she levitated the stack of gifts from behind Arthur onto the floor before her. “We were waiting for the two of you to get here.”

“You really shouldn’t have, ‘Mione,” Arthur said, his smile as agreeable as ever.

“Really. We should have,” Hermione answered, being sure to include another ‘we’. 

Hermione had insisted Pansy help her shop. At first the raven-haired witch had been reluctant, claiming she didn’t know any of the Weasleys well enough to be of any help. But the gift choices were all the better for her fastidious eye. 

Hermione waved her wand and the gifts found their owners, landing in each of their laps. “How about Bill, Fleur, and Victoire first?”

(*)

The witches made it back to their house after only being gone an hour. Pansy was feeling her cocoas, and Hermione had turned her nose up halfway through her eggnog. She was loath to know how strong Pansy’s drinks had been if her own eggnog had been the lighter choice. The thought made her stomach flip and she moved straight for the kitchen to make bedtime tea.

“If you want to go get ready for bed I’ll bring tea up,” Hermione called to her girlfriend who was hanging her cloak up on the hanger by the rarely-used front door.   
Pansy said nothing as she took her woman’s suggested and apparated to the end of their bed with a “pop”. She stepped out of her shoes and sent them to the closet, then used the well-practiced spells she utilized daily to remove her garments and place them in the laundry room downstairs. Last, she removed her make-up and hair-do charms as she made her way to the shower.

Hermione, who still often went about her day-to-day routine the “Muggle way”, something her lover had yet to get used to, waited fifteen minutes for the cold water she’d half-way filled the kettle with from the tap to boil. She could have, obviously, heated the tea with magic the way Pansy did in the morning, but she used this time to review the list of things she needed to do the next day, almost like meditation.

She needed it. The last five minutes of their visit to the Burrow had been the most strained moment of the night.

Absently licking her lips, Hermione set the tray, complete with toast, and made her way up the stairs to their bedroom, kicking the door closed behind her. She then placed the tea tray on the desk before casting a certain spell. She stripped down, putting her clothes on the back of the desk chair, then glanced at the bed on last time as she made to the loo and through the thick steam to the shower.

Pansy felt her witch slide in behind her, and inhaled deeply as Hermione’s cool skin pressed along her back, arms wrapping around her middle.

Seconds passed before Hermione said, “I’m sorry about Ron’s gift.”

Pansy’s inner-Slytherin wanted to smirk at how well Hermione read her. The witch could read, but oftimes she read people better. Pansy hardly ever had to elaborate to Hermione, and, on the same note, she never had to ask what was bothering Hermione. 

But still. The gift for Ron…

“What’re you sorry for?” Pansy asked. She wanted to know what her brilliant witch had to say.

“It was far too thoughtful,” came the reply mumbled into the, now, shorter witch’s wet shoulder.

“Hm,” Pansy hummed. She spun in Hermione’s arms and looked the two inches up to say, “A Chudley Cannons season pass? I understand they’re cheap considering that they’re a bag of flaming Hippogriff shite of a team, but really? Feeling some guilt lately?” 

Hermione frowned, and then took a deep breath before saying, “Maybe. But, really? They were dirt fucking cheap, and the only person I knew who would appreciate it was him.”  
Pansy could not dispute this. She had no friends that were Cannons fans, and she planned to keep it that way. She also knew Hermione only ever- siriusly, only ever- did anything with the best of intentions. Even her cheating on Ron hadn’t been a one-sided thing. At least in Pansy’s eyes. But could she excuse her for keeping such a purchase a secret? She’d assumed that Ron wouldn’t get a gift, and if he did, it would have been coal or Blast-Ended Skrewt spunk.

“Please, love. Don’t be too mad at me,” Hermione said with a small pout.

Hermione did not beg unless she was in error, in which case Pansy would cave. The idea of the brilliant witch begging her for anything made her melt from the inside out.  
“You know I can’t be…” Pansy said, closing her eyes and leaning forward into Hermione’s shoulder.

Hermione adjusted them under the spray to keep them warm, then said, “I have yet to give you your last gift, you know.”

Pansy smirked before asking, “Did you give that demonic cat to one of those Muggle establishments where they put liquid Avada Kadavra into animals’ veins so they can take a dirt nap?”

The Slytherin alum would never forgive Crookshanks for violently interrupting their morning romp.

“Psh! No!” Hermione answered, though she smiled a little. She knew Pansy was joking, however crude her words. She knew better than to mean it. “It’s on the bed. And I left Crookshanks in the living room.”

“Oh, alright. Let me finish up.” Pansy agreed.

Some five minutes later the pair exited the shower, Pansy dried them both with a quick flick of her wand, and then did the same to dress herself in a dark green robe while Hermione put her red one on by hand. The curly-haired witch then took Pansy by the hand and pulled her out to the bedroom, where a medium-sized box lay directly in the center of the bed. It was extravagantly wrapped, topped with a large green and red bow, and it had a large tag that read, “My Moon and Stars”. 

Pansy looked to Hermione with a speculative look before turning back to the bed and climbing on to inspect the present.

“Don’t pick it up. Or shake it,” Hermione warned.

Pansy’s curiosity grew at the words, but she heeded them as she untied the bow and delicately separated the paper. As she did so, she realized in her closer inspection holes in the box, and almost instantly felt incredulity well up within her as she opened the top of the box to find a tiny all-black kneazle kitten sitting at the bottom, looking up at Pansy silently with large green eyes. 

“Bloody-!” Pansy looked up at Hermione, whom she could tell was doing her best at not bursting into laughter. “A kneazle?!” 

“Yes,” the witch managed without giggling. “Her name is Twat.”

“Twat?”

“Yeah. Harry named her,” Hermione said with an eye roll. “She bit him twice in the time it took to get her here.”

At hearing this, and deciding that she and the cat were of a like mind, Pansy tentatively reached into the box, grabbed the kitten by its scruff, and lifted it to read the name tag hanging off of its sparkling purple collar. 

“Twat Parkinson, huh? Well… Nice to meet you. I’m Pansy.”

“Aw!” Hermione squealed quite uncharacteristically, before bouncing twice and then landing on the bed next to Pansy and their newest addition. “That is so cute! You like her already!”

Pansy shrugged before setting the cat on her lap and petting it idly. The creature almost instantly relaxed and began to purr loudly. “She hasn’t bitten me, so that’s a plus. What did Crookshanks have to say?”

“HE doesn’t know, yet,” Hermione said, and Pansy’s eyes went wide. “It’s ok, though. He’ll hate her at first,” Hermione speculated as she scratched the kitten below its chin. “They’ll fight a lot, and all of that. Then one day he’ll realize he loves her and make her his girlfriend. Happens all the time.”

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank my amazing beta for helping me with hashing this fic out. It took quite a bit of mental energy to fit this into 5,000 words, and then add the fact that this is my first competition piece. I'd also like to thank you, the reader, for giving it a shot. Happy Holidays!


End file.
